The Letters of Fools
by mindcaster15
Summary: The whole fiasco began with a frustrated journal entry. Said journal entry led to a sarcastic exchange of letters, which in turn led to an untimely demise of the school mascot. It was all very difficult to explain.
1. Of Missing Toasters and Notebooks

**Now before anyone who happened to read this story previously (not many of you) see this and end up being like "wasn't this story already written?" I just want to say that this is a rewrite. Because I reread this and was like "I really hope I still don't write like this," So I'm changing things up a bit and rewriting.**

**I do not own Shugo Chara. The writing is mine. Amu may be a little out of character, but in my defense she's in high school now and shouldn't be acting like a nine year old girl. She may be slightly more violent. She's working on it.**

**OooOooO**

By the time fifth hour rolled along, Hinamori Amu was ready to beat someone - anyone - senseless. Preferably the teacher who had wronged her (well, maybe not wronged, but he had it in for her, she was certain), her younger sister in middle school, and her peers who always managed to tick her off at least once a day.

She wasn't a violent person, really, despite popular belief. Sure, she had punched Danny Millson in the face, but that was freshman year. And besides, if it wasn't her than someone else would have. The jerk had it coming.

No, these days she refrained from punching people. These days she vented on a piece of paper.

**OooOooO**

_I knew today was going to be bad when I woke up and couldn't find the toaster. How do you lose a toaster? I've been at a loss for an explanation on that subject myself. It's a fairly large, plastic, bread burning machine and there should be absolutely no reason for it not to be in our kitchen._

_It's not like someone moved it. I searched the entire kitchen, all of our outlets, and still it was gone. Could someone have stolen it? That seems rather ridiculous and absurd, but it's possible. All I can say to that is, if you need a toaster THAT BAD then you can have it. Keep it. It's apparently very important to you._

_Next came Ami. As usual she slept past her alarm clock. As usual she scrambled to get ready. As usual she expected me to wait on her, put on hold everything that was best for me, and focus with my undivided attention on Ami._

"_Ami," I said, "Get in the car." _

"_Hold on, hold on just one second okay? I have to find my flats with the flowers on them because they go best with this outfit."_

"_Wear something else. We're going to be late."_

_Ami ignored my comment and continued to frantically search under the bed. "Found one!" she yelled as she held her single flat in the air, triumph written all over her face. _

"_Great. Now find the other one."_

"_You could help, you know."_

"_It's not my problem." I glanced at the clock. It was definitely time to go. If we took much longer I would miss the first couple minutes of my first hour. I was without a doubt already going to be late for the bell. _

_I grabbed Ami and dragged her across her room and towards the door. She was giving shrieks that would wake the dead, and more importantly, Mom, who still slept soundly and peacefully. _

"_I need shoes! I can't go without shoes!"_

"_Wear these," I chucked a pair that were sitting near my doorway at her._

"_These are gardening boots," Ami hissed, looking down at them in horror. It's not like they were ugly, they were just a little dirty. _

"_Wear these or wear nothing."_

_She obeyed. Not that it mattered, because I was, of course, late for school. This being my third tardy I received a detention. By the office lady, who as a rule, refuses to smile or give any words of encouragement to students. _

_I'm not exactly sure what her deal is, but for as long as I've been going to school here (which would be three years) she's always been grumpy. If you have to see the counselor or the school nurse, you have to get through her. She always manages to shoot you a look like you're being a huge imposition, when all you were asking for is a pass to see the nurse because you just got done throwing up your lungs. _

_I then learned of a pop quiz in my Trig class. I was unprepared. There is nothing more to say on that subject._

_By the time lunch rolled around I was in a mood. But understandably so, right? Right. My friend (who is always in a bad mood) joined my in our cloud of doom and gloom. She picked at her breaded "chicken" patty, unhappily stabbed at her canned fruit and crunched mournfully at her granola bar._

_She was the picture of depression. _

Before Amu could continue on with her writing the bell rang. She stared at the glowing red numbers on the clock a moment, packed up her stuff and left.

It was, as she had said, one of those days. Such a day, would of course entail leaving behind her notebook in class.

**OooOooO**

**That was just the prologue. Later chapters will be longer. Please leave a review!**


	2. Enter the Letter Exchange

**I do not own Shugo Chara. Please leave a review! I did pick a hobby of sorts for Amu, because everybody is semi-good at something, and it seemed unrealistic for her to just do homework all day.**

**OooOooO**

"Amu!" Ami rushed into my room like a tornado and began to frantically shove aside my things. She looked eerily like Gollum desperately searching for his lost precious. Except she had hair.

"Ami, _what_ on earth are you doing?" I asked/ yelled as I pulled her back away from my things. Ami stopped and shot me a pointed glare filled with wrath, and stood up, arms folded across her chest.

"Give it back. I know you took it." Her mouth was pressed in a firm line. I suppose she was trying to scare me into submission, but she merely served to amuse me.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. And for a girl who prizes her privacy so highly, you sure trespassed on mine easily."

"The flats. With the flowers on them that were missing this morning. You took them to annoy me didn't you?"

I felt the urge to burst out into peels of hysterical laughter but refrained. Ami, in her young thirteen year old head, would see it as confirmation of the alleged crimes and then take her case to the higher court, my parents. I wasn't feeling up to a family argument at the moment.

"You found one of them under the bed, didn't you? You think I put it there to throw you off the case of something?"

"You are _so _insufferable!" Ami shrieked as she stamped out of my room. I cringed. I was starting to buy into the theory that her vocal chords became sharper with each year. I didn't remember her being quite so loud as a baby. Even then it would have been more acceptable because babies didn't have wild and uncontrollable mood swings over meaningless objects.

She was of that age where everything was a big deal. Middle School was rough, I remembered, but it seemed especially difficult on Ami. I guess because I was more introverted I didn't worry about people as much. Ami did.

I shrugged and started towards the living room. I could hear Ami complaining to Mom about her so called shoe theft.

"I'm going over to Rima's," I called as I headed out the door. Mom yelled something positive back, which I took to mean _"continue on_."

I guess I could have driven to Rima's house, but I liked to walk. It cleared my head, and while three miles wasn't very far to drive it was quite a trek walking. I liked to say that it kept me in shape.

Besides, the sidewalk ran practically all the way to her house. There was nothing complicated about following the white, concrete squares to house number three eighteen.

Of course, in my absentminded limbo that I lived in I ran straight into the person in front of me. I looked up to face my fellow pedestrian, who I had previously not noticed. Tall and slim, with longish blue hair and violet eyes.

Tsukiyomi Ikuto. I didn't know him well, as he didn't say much. He had few friends, but not because he was an outcast. He was just sort of a loner, going through the routine at school with boredom. I did know that he was first chair violin, but other than that he was a blue blur in the back of my mind.

"Sorry," I told him, awkwardly inching away.

"No problem," He had a husky voice, and maybe it's just me, but it was rather attractive. His eyes were the sort of things that made you feel particularly uncomfortable or misplaced to his advantage.

As I glanced back I wondered if blue was his favorite color. His notebook he was carrying was blue along with his hair.

**OooOooO**

The next morning was the same routine between Ami and me. Some yelling, lateness, general frustration turned to giggles. She then joined her witless wonder of a friend in the middle school parking, and I drove off to high school where I found, to my inexpressible joy, that I was not late for class.

Fifth hour I found my blue notebook that I had left behind in class. As I had suspected, nobody had wanted it enough to actually take it. Which I appreciated, since it had some artwork and my personal thoughts scribbled inside.

Art was my only real claim to fame. While I was no special child prodigy, I had had a few of my paintings and drawings displayed for the school to see. I wasn't awesome, but I had enough talent and hard work combined to make it fairly impressive.

I had to admit, I was pretty happy at the way things had turned out. I was taking three art classes as electives, and while it was difficult to juggle, the challenge of it all was thrilling in a way that I liked.

As I flipped open my notebook I found a sheet of paper that hadn't previously been there. I picked it up and unfolded it, staring at the words.

_Dear Toasterless Person,_

_Perhaps it was completely rude, and perhaps it wasn't exactly the socially acceptable thing to do, but I read your vent on paper._

_Now lets just skip the part where you start nagging at me for "reading your private thoughts," and call me a creeper and start accusing me of heinous crimes that I haven't committed. I picked up your journal by mistake, believing it to be mine. I realized the mistake when I got home, read your entry, and replaced it where I found it before the bell._

_I had to admit, I was somewhat impressed with your ability to find the negative in everything. You must be a cynic._

_You sort of left off your tale of woe as a cliffhanger, and I'm somewhat curious as to what exactly happened to your friend, your hour of detention, and if you ever found your toaster. Mostly the toaster. Actually, you can forget all that other dramatic stuff. I'm more concerned with your missing bread machine, because my toaster is missing also. I have this theory that someone has been going around stealing them, but that, as you said, seems utterly absurd._

_Sincerely,_

_Your companion in a toasterless land._

I reread the letter again. And again. And though I hated it, a small smile appeared on my face.

**OooOooO**

_Dear (disputably) invasive person,_

_While you said that I shouldn't nag at you for reading my journal because you got it mixed up with your own, I can't help but feel somewhat invaded considering you could (and should) have stopped reading once you saw that the words were clearly not your own. You kept on._

_However, lets just skip the part where you deny all wrongdoing and cut to the chase._

_Your toaster is gone too? This baffles me. It's one thing for the toaster in my family go missing, but to have your toaster missing as well seems rather bizarre. Of course, I don't know you family. For all I know you could have had a kleptomaniac aunt stay at your house and make off with the toaster. Perhaps this occurrence is a mere coincidence, and they aren't even relatively connected with each other._

_I have my doubts, however._

_And what exactly did you mean when you said I was a negative person? I'm not a negative person. I'm very positive. In fact, I'm downright optimistic. It's the lady at the desk in the office whose negative. With her firm line for a mouth, permanently furrowed brow…you get my point._

_Speaking of which, I write to you from my seat in detention. The teacher had asked what I was doing when she saw that I was writing. I told her that I was writing a letter, and she left it alone after that. I took it as permission to continue._

_Detention isn't really all that bad, or at least, in my experience it isn't. The teacher just has you sit for an hour in their room and asks if you have any homework to do or a book to read. Since I would have done this at home anyway, it's all fairly moot. _

_But anyway, the reason my rant (is rant the right word? Vent doesn't seem appropriate either. What about frustration on paper?) ended so abruptly was because the bell rang. As for why my friend was depressed is none of your business._

_I never did, by the way, find my toaster._

_With sincerity,_

_The extremely invaded girl who wrote back because she was too well mannered to leave you hanging._

When I was done and I had checked it over, I slipped into my fifth hour class. The teacher wasn't in. I quietly sidled over to her desk, borrowed a piece of tape, and taped my letter under my desk. Hopefully my peer would find it there.

Whoever my fellow letter writer was, was fairly interesting. Perhaps this was ridiculous as well as childish, but I could already feel that it would be fun.

**OooOooO**

****Soccer star Kukai Souma was not what I would call intelligent. He was not, on the other hand, as dumb as people first thought him to be. Considering the fact that he had come up to the ranks of a sports champion in our school, he also had to be hardworking. This left me hopeful for our project together.

Yesterday when my Psychology teacher had paired us up, I wasn't especially thrilled. But I had to admit, his grin was contagious as was his attitude. He had given me a giant smile and said in an excited voice "So what are we going to do the project on?"

"I was thinking maybe twin telepathy. You know, the debate of whether twins have special bonds that other people don't have with their siblings."

"I know what it is," Kukai said back. I felt sort of bad - I hadn't meant to offend him by making him feel stupid. He was a nice guy, and I would have done it to anyone I had worked with. It had become a habit of mine to over explain things because of my tendency to come across as completely inarticulate.

"Right. So what do you think?"

Kukai considered it a moment before finally nodding. I wondered if maybe he had something particular he had wanted, but decided against asking. If he wanted to do something different he should mention it. I didn't want to get stuck in the land of morbidly polite, a place where nobody put their idea out in the open for fear of coming across overbearing.

To be honest, I was counting the minutes until school was over. Since I had literature class before my letter writer I would have to wait until the end of the day until I could see if they responded. It was killing me. There wasn't any guarantees that the person would even find my response letter, and even if they did, it didn't mean they would write back.

"Amu?"

"Hm?"

"I asked if you wanted to meet over at my place this weekend to do the project together."

"Yeah, sorry. That sounds great Kukai." So he was willing to do work on the project. That was an extremely good sign. I couldn't count how many times I ended up doing all the work on my own.

"What time?"

"Like 12:30? That sound okay?"

"Yeah," Kukai paused a moment, as if debating something in his head. Finally he added "You know what's weird? Our toaster gone missing."

I stared at him a moment, unable to form an answer. First of all, I couldn't fathom what had behooved him to mention his toaster dilemma in the first place. Secondly, I was feeling rather weirded out by everyone having their toaster stolen. It was no coincidence, and yet, I couldn't imagine how anyone could come into our house and steal something without us knowing it.

I was starting to think that it was all just a huge practical joke put together by someone who was attempting to drive me to insanity, but that too seemed unlikely.

"That's weird, so is mine." It was the only reply I could think up for the moment.

"Seems we have a toaster thief on our hands," Kukai joked, oblivious to the fact that that was exactly what was running through my head right now. I gave him a weak smile, and we got back to work.

**OooOooO**

**Perhaps not a strong ending, but it was getting about time to get in the shower. So I gave you an abrupt ending. Sorry about that, I'll do better next time. Please leave a review. I may not update for a little while, as I will be on vacation for a couple days.**


	3. Joker

**I do not own Shugo Chara. Thanks to all who reviewed! I'm a girl, so don't think I'm bashing, but I've noticed this attitude a lot in females and it sort of annoys me. Not that it always happens, but I feel it's fairly common.**

**OooOooO**

_Dear (Girl?) who is in no way more well mannered than me,_

_As if I care why your friend was depressed. And I don't need you to tell me why either. Since your words ring as those of a female, I am going to assume that your friend is a female, probably troubled because of a guy. If a girl is sad, or in general upset, it is because she usually feels morally jilted or otherwise severely wronged, not just by her dirt bag of a boyfriend, but by the male sex as a whole. I'm sure she'll get over it._

_But lets move on, shall we?_

_The more I go to English class, the more I feel the will to live slowly leave my body. Don't get me wrong - English is all fine and dandy, helpful, and rather necessary for life. I'm just sort of at a loss as to why we have to read books that, in my opinion, do not further our education or better our lives._

_Allow me to explain._

_Shakespeare I understand. The guy was like a genius. Certain classics I understand, although granted some of them can be dull. There are others, however, that I can find no redeeming qualities in._

_Take "The Scarlett Letter" for instance. I realize it's supposed to be a masterpiece of literature, and that the author was supposedly disgusted with his roots and all that lovely drama, but I was completely unimpressed._

_All the guy was really doing was showing off is vocabulary in the most arrogant way possible. All his symbols are an attempt to make him look deep and profound, and again, he does this to boast about his IQ. And what was with the ending? Really? Dimmesdale dies in the most dramatic way possible, Hester goes away, nothing really happens that we haven't foreseen. Lazy writing, all the way._

_Although, I must admit, my English class is fairly interesting. Mainly due to the teacher and students that attend the class. We're an odd bunch, but it amuses me nonetheless. _

_Yesterday I headed down to the IceCream Shop, and shock of shocks, I found several things._

_The first thing: It was already packed with the extremely vocal species that we both belong to (or at least I hope you belong to it as well) commonly known as the teenager. _

_**Teenager**__: Ages fourteen to eighteen. Can typically be found trying to act unique when they in fact stereotype themselves. Very loud._

_The second thing: A zombie waiter(ess.)_

_**Zombie Waiter(ess): **__The person who takes your order begrudgingly. They usually have an annoyed look on their face, and act as if they loathe their jobs (it's quite possible that they do.) Very likely to mess up the order because of lack of caring. Will become vicious if you point out the error._

_You can imagine how happy I was to have Ice cream there. _

_I was with my sister, who unlike your own (or so I gathered), is only a year younger than yours truly. It was then that things began to go downhill._

_My sister (let's call her Jane to make things simpler) was up there ordering, and I already had my ice cream and had sat down when this guy comes in._

_Now I don't mean to sound judgmental, but I could tell that this guy was just a little off his rocker. So I'm just sitting there harmlessly when he comes over._

_He had a long beard and hair, shaggy clothes that were in desperate need of a wash. _

_So he hands me an old card, probably from a children's card game, that has a joker on it. And he's all like "Find her for me."_

_I don't say anything, which I suppose I should have, but what was there to say?_

_But he just walks out and I'm left with this worn out joker card that has a date written on it. And I'm supposed to find some lady for him, which is really dumb because I know nothing about anything. Why are all these bizarre things happening?_

_I too have not recovered my toaster._

_Sincerely,_

_Guy (it doesn't hurt to say it) who now owns a meaningless playing card_

**OooOooO**

_Dear Guy who must be the picture of negativity,_

_And I'm the negative one? I just had a bad day. It sounds to me like you're always in a bad mood._

_As far as my gender, I have to admit that you're very astute. I am in fact a female. I was hoping that I wasn't so transparent, but apparently I need to work on it._

_Ha! There is one thing that you did get wrong, and that being of my friends distress. She was not, in fact, upset about a male. Her sorrow had absolutely, one hundred percent, completely, wholly, nothing to do with dating or relationship drama. Here you have failed, my shrewd friend, here you have failed._

_I must admit, your take on English class rings fairly true. I have often wondered who tags things as classics, and why they pick the things they do. The majority of them should be fired. _

_Although, and I must be honest, my problem stems more from homework. I detest homework. I find it deplorable, and often find myself not finishing all of it. I do just enough for a decent grade, but not so much that I spend all my time doing it. When I was younger I just kept at it, but nowadays…I've sort of slacked off._

_Your joker card problem is cool but also kind of creepy. By creepy I mean that it's like…what if this guy is a raving lunatic? What if he follows you home and kills you or something? He sounds like he isn't right in the head, so if I were you, I'd be locking my doors._

_If you don't want the card then I'd be happy to have it, however. It's a sort of neat souvenir, and I think you should, at the very least, keep it, despite not knowing how to find "her" and the like. _

_I'd say more, really, but my time is more limited than your own. I can add nothing more than to mention that the disappearing toasters are really starting to get to my nerves._

_With all the sincereness I can muster,_

_The girl with the short letter_

**OooOooO**

On Saturday morning when I stumbled down to breakfast I found the newspaper staring up at me from the table. This was not by any means something that would usually catch my attention, nor would it have had it not been for the headline.

**Rash of Toaster Burglaries Leave Police Baffled**

Several things passed through my mind as I read the words.

One: News had to be incredibly slow. This should not have been something that made top news, yet here it was taking up the front page of our local newspaper.

Two: There was no point in even believing it as a joke on me personally. On the police or the town, perhaps, but on me, no.

My Dad shot my Mom a concerned look.

"Sweetheart, have you seen the toaster? It says here that there have been toaster thefts lately."

"It's been missing for several days now," I filled him in while adding some blueberries to my morning smoothie. Dad looked up at me.

"What? Why didn't you mention this?"

"I did, remember? You told me to look harder." In Dad's defense, it was one of those things that you don't exactly make note of.

"This is disturbing," Mom muttered, eyes scanning the counter in case I was mistaken. "Someone breaking into our house leaves me…" She trailed off and shivered. I knew what she meant. Invading our privacy made me feel completely unsafe.

"Moooooom," Ami called from somewhere. She had mastered the art of not getting up from her position on the couch, something she may have learned from me. I now held the title of a bad influence, though mildly.

"Someone has broken into our home? Stolen our toaster?" Dad was losing color from his face at the thought.

"Do we have anymore of those granola bars? I'm like _starving_," Ami had finally trekked into the kitchen, seeing as no one had answered her couch potato cry.

"The article says that four homes have been hit already. Should we report our own?" Dad's eyes frantically scanned the article for more.

"Anyway, I'm going to be over at Kukai's house for a group project at about twelve thirty. Just thought you should know," I headed back upstairs to my room.

"Kukai?" My Dad's voice came from behind me. "Isn't that a boys name?"

**OooOooO**

**Well, I have to admit that I'm not very impressed with this chapter. It was written somewhat hurriedly, and I just recovered from being really sick (okay, those are excuses.) The letter writer came pretty out of character, as he was a bit too negative, but I'll try harder next time to make him more himself. Just bare with me for this chapter. Sorry if you like "The Scarlett Letter." I hope you weren't too deeply offended. Next chapter will involve a little Ikuto, so hopefully that will make you happier.**


End file.
